Moment of Weakness
by Katreal
Summary: Even the most ruthless killer has had a moment of weakness. Thanks to a bloodied manuscript that Vermouth unearthed, Gin relives his. One-Shot


Moments of Weakness

Disclaimer: Gin is not mine. Kin is. Detective Conan, unfortunately, is not.

Warning: Death. I tried not to describe it too much.

When the average person thinks of a cold-hearted killer, he or she always think about guns and murders, knives in the dark, and ropes (or hands) closing tightly around a defenseless throat. The final beating of a heart, desperate and erratic as it struggles to continue circulating oxygen to every needy cell in the body, before it stills forever, letting the victim draw in one last breath.

There are many more little facts or tidbits that might come to mind, either originated from movies seen or stories heard. Not many think of the killer, sitting at a desk, shuffling through a mound of paperwork that nearly covered the entire rectangle table-top, wishing desperately that he could just shoot at the paper and make it all go away. Unfortunately, giving in and doing so would be the cause of an even greater mess.

The man, known only to a select few as Gin, was as cold-blooded as it got, having put weekly layers of blood on his pale white hands, gotten it in his long white-blonde hair, and found nothing wrong with stealing the life of a perfectly innocent witness. His career as a killer for hire, occasionally body-guard, and finally a member of the most feared, and best kept-secret crime organization was long and bloody, stretching back into the years when he _should _have been young and innocent.

He rather enjoyed his life-style; after all, what were a few lives as long as he lived comfortably? As a rule, he avoided wanton killing, but should a deal go sour, a witness stick his or her nose where it should not be, he would take care of them without remorse, without a second thought beyond that he was doing his job. The only thing he did not like, and one of the reasons he did not like wanton killing, was the paper-work that came along with each necessary (and unnecessary for some people. He was well aware that there were a few blood-thirsty members of the group) death. The Organization as a whole, did not approve unnecessary and wasteful deaths, too many people just up and disappearing would catch peoples attention, as would carelessly dumped bodies and badly staged 'accidents'.

Gin wasn't quite sure where all the leaves of paper had come from, he'd only had to eliminate one witness during his last mission, and had taken care of the forms for that one. Where had this entire pile come from?

A small, purple post-it not caught his eye. It was sitting innocently at the top of the pile, sticking to a form that was dated at least two years before. A curved, feminine hand-writing covered it, and a whiff of familiar perfume had his eyes rolling in exasperation. The message itself did nothing to lessen the annoyance at the writer, no, if anything it increased it. It read:

Gin-

The boss ordered a surprise inspection. Just look at all the papers I found lying around and stuck in random places around the room! You really need to be more organized, so I decided to help and center them in one place so you could take care of them.

-Vermouth

Gin snorted at the little heart drawn next to the infiltrator's code-name, and turned his attention to the large pile. He was sure he'd filed away some of these, and he got a sneaking suspicion that they hadn't been found stuffed behind the cabinet, or whatever she claimed. He wouldn't put it past Vermouth to go rooting through his desk and drawers, just to give him more work to do.

There wasn't much he could do, even if she had pulled them from their place to annoy him, if the boss did indeed order an inspection soon (she usually didn't lie about those things.) He just needed to suck it up, and put them away.

It wasn't too bad; he just took them by date and put them in the corresponding filing cabinet. Anything over ten-years old was just thrown out, well, placed in the pile to be shredded later. There weren't that many, he was only twenty-eight years old, and had begun his truly hard-core criminal years around age fifteen. Even then, he'd been a part of the organization since eighteen, so it was unlikely he'd have anything over ten years, unless it was just by a couple days or a few months.

An hour passed, and the pile was slowly dwindling away. He didn't look up when his partner arrived, mug of coffee in hand. The portly Vodka (Gin didn't know, nor care what his real name was) merely stopped in the doorway, watched the expression of his partner slowly grow blanker, and blanker, a sign that he was _not _pleased and help the poor sap to anger him. Vodka, in the end, had decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and had left his murderous partner alone, to deal with the one thing he couldn't kill.

Paperwork. And Vermouth. It was a shame he couldn't just vent his frustration on the woman, but he knew the boss wouldn't like that. Vermouth had the boss wrapped around her pinky finger, a fact that nearly every agent in the inner circle knew, and had taken advantage of at times.

Finally, after many paper cuts, he made it to the bottom of the pile. Everything else taken care of, there was only one thing left, a thick packet of paper that had his rage fade away, paper that made the coal-black eyes that many thought belonged to the devil himself soften even the slightest bit.

It was a manuscript, hand-written and bound together with string. He ran his hand over the title on the first page, before flipping it open, eyes taking in the name of the author. Fujita Kinko.

'_Gin and Kin! It's so funny! Don't you think so?'_

He'd completely forgotten this manuscript, lost beneath years of mission reports and other various types of meaningless white sheets of paper.

It was over ten years old, but there was no way he'd allow this article to go the shredder. It was a relic of the beginning of his career, the first mission he'd gone on. The first time he'd killed someone truly in cold blood, under the orders of some stranger he'd never known.

It marked the starting point of his career, but it also marked his first, and last, moment of weakness.

He remembered it vividly, some corrupt teacher had his fingers in some business that he shouldn't have. A group of kids had been sniffing around him, making him uneasy with how close they were getting to discover his secrets. Using money obtained by ill-begotten means (Gin had been, and still was positive of that) the man had hired out the gang that his little fifteen-year old self had been running with. Being the youngest, and the best at hiding his attentions, Gin had been sent as a scout, to find out just how much the group knew, and to try and sabotage the investigation the best he could. They'd been ordered to get rid of the pursuit by any means possible, but the gang knew better that to just kill off a bunch of kids. Killing was a last resort.

He'd infiltrated the group, under the name of Nara Ginsei, and had proceeded to carry out his orders. He'd been quiet, but not anti-social, so the little crime-fighters hadn't suspected a thing. He'd never gotten very close to them, couldn't even remember their faces now if he tried, one of the rules had been to not get attached.

Things had gone so well, until he'd met with a visitor, the sister to one of the senior members of the group.

"_Hi! I've never seen you around before. Are you new?"_

Fujita Kinko, age fourteen, an aspiring writer. Unlike the others, he still could remember her. The image was fuzzy, the result of a decade and a little bit that had passed between past and present, but her distinguishing features were difficult to forget. She truly was the Kin to his Gin, a funny little saying she'd come up with shortly after he'd met her. Golden hair, lightly tanned, she stood out greatly in contrast next to his white-blonde, and pale complexion. There'd been much teasing about it; he remembered that now, the details slowly floating to the surface the more he stared at the packet that was filled with her distinct handwriting. He flipped through the pages, reading a little of the story he'd read over and over, so long ago.

She hadn't been a part of the group, except by association, a fact that had left Ginsei feeling relieved. He'd been a teenager then, and like almost all of his age and gender, his hormones were in the process of laying waste to his emotions. He'd felt…an attachment to her. He wouldn't say a full-blown crush, since he'd never, ever cared about anyone to that extent. Frankly, Gin didn't believe anyone deserved it. No one had ever cared about him like that, so why should he?

Regardless, he hadn't wanted her to be hurt.

She was a curious one. According to her brother, she'd never shown an interest in their activities before, but had shown an increase in attendance ever since she'd met with Ginsei. He hadn't noticed it at the time, too busy with his mission to notice the frequency of their meetings increase. Right before the end, her brother had pulled him aside, and delivered some news that had left him, the ice-block Gin, reeling.

"_She likes you." The news had been abrupt, to the point, and quite blunt. Unused to the terms associated with teenage drama, the situations, or the feelings, it took a while for Ginsei to realize what, and who, the boy had been referring to. _

"_I-impossible." He stated in return, turning defiant, black eyes up on the taller, almost graduated senior. The senior Fujita had his arms crossed, gazing down on him with a serious, but indefinable expression. The boy took a breath, crouched down a bit so that he came to the younger boy's eyelevel, "It's true. For some reason, she likes you Nara. I just want to let you know, if you _ever_ hurt her, I'll kill you. Got it?"_

It hadn't been the first time those words had been directed to him, even at that young age "I'll Kill You" had been something he'd gotten quite used to. Many had tried, all had failed, but for some reason, the unwavering promise in the elder-brother's words had affected him in a way it never had before, except in the case when it was his own mother saying it to him.

Of course, he hadn't succeeded either; the elder brother had died before he had a chance to follow through with his promise.

_He'd failed in his primary directive, the group had managed to find proof of the teacher's drug-dealing and even one or two poorly covered up murders. The police had already been called, and they were currently on the way to the school to present the evidence to the principal, effectively getting the guy fired before he knew what was going on. OR at least, that was the plan. It should have worked, they'd been rather good about covering their tracks, and would have gotten away with no-one the wiser. Would have, if it weren't for the little silver mole in their midst._

_Ginsei was performing at his peak, unfettered by the presence of Kinko, who had something else to do that day. It was because of her absence that he was able to fall back into the role of the silent killer he was used to. He'd received the word from his boss, this group was to be eliminated, completely, and the evidence destroyed before it could exchange hands. There was no way out of the situation, as long as they lived to remember the site, the allegations, the timetables for the drug shipments, they were a threat to his client, who could not change, rearrange, and move all of those damning facts between the moment of their discovery, and the time they were turned over to the police._

_So, he'd given the order of elimination. With a single word, a group of teenagers would lose their lives for the illegal dealings of one man. Ginsei couldn't help the scowl the thought brought to mind, but orders were orders. The rest of his group was getting in position as they neared the school. He could do it, he could do it easily. The one person he didn't want to involve was not here, so it'd be as easy as pulling the trigger._

_He could feel the metal gun as a comforting weight against the small of his back, held in place by a holster every member of the gang had been given upon induction. Yes, it'd just be as easy as pulling the trigger…_

_The signal came. Gunshots erupted, both from without, and within their midst. He hadn't planned it this way, but he soon found the Elder Fujita facing him, glazed over eyes staring up at him, a bullet driven directly between the eyes, originating from the smoking barrel of his gun. Just like all others who'd threatened him, he ended up dead by the silver ghost's hand._

_Covered in blood, the screams of near by pedestrians brought him out of the bloody haze he'd been floating in. Without thinking, the nearest scream was cut short, and it was then the policy of no witnesses was born._

_It was Sunday, so no one would be at school except the principal, who'd been called there to meet the now decimated crime-fighting group. Even the one or two passerbys were just there by chance, on the way to one place or another. The place would soon be swarming with police, they could even hear the sirens in the distance, brought in originally by the leader's call and then later by the hysterical two second call one of the pedestrians had managed to get off before he was silenced forever._

_He looked around, surveying the surrounding carnage with an impassive eye. Assuming they could get out of here, it would be a job well done. He bent over and extracted every single piece of evidence they'd collected. Charts, papers, samples, maps—everything._

_Most of the gang had scattered by now, scared off by the sound of sirens, but Ginsei noticed that two members were standing over by the school, huddled around something lying on the ground. He jogged over, trying to work some of the drying blood out of his white-blonde hair as he did so, ready to order them to leave. They'd be compromising the gang's safety if they stayed much longer. He opened his mouth to speak, but all words caught in his throat._

_Lying on the ground, bleeding from a gunshot wound in the leg, was the very person he'd tried his best to keep out of this mess._

"_Get the hell out of here!" He snapped at the two, well aware of their plans for the girl, plans he would not let come to fruitation. They were newcomers, recently joined he noticed, which would be why they ignored the withdrawal order in favor of taking spoils._

"_Make us Ghost." One grinned at him, using the name the gang gave him when he was inducted a couple years ago. Obviously they didn't know him very well if they would challenge him like that. He pointed his gun at them, arm steady as he glared at them, "Move it now."_

_Sufficiantly shaken up the speaker tried to protest, "But the girl—"_

"_I'll take care of it. Hear the sirens? Get going!"_

_At last they scampered, leaving Ginsei free to drop to his knees next to the still girl. He inspected the wound, not fatal, but if the paramedics took much longer to get here… Without thinking he tore a strip from his shirt, using it to create a crude bandage for the wound. His heart fluttered as she stirred under his touch, but remained unconcious, probably fainted from either shock or blood-loss. He touched a loose strand of her golden hair lightly, pushing it away from her face and tucking it behind her ear, all the strength that the silent assassin gave him drawing away and leaving the empty boy behind. _

_He didn't get it. The one person he'd tried to keep out of the whole situation ended up running right into it. He had no idea what she was doing at the school on a Sunday, he couldn't even fathom a guess. He wasn't even sure if helping her would do any good—his gang was ruthless, and never left any survivors if it came to death._

_He stood up, gun cold in his hands as he contemplated what to do. He could leave her, only to have the rest of the gang track her down and…or he could do the deed himself. Looking down at the tanned face, he picked up the weapon, training it in a spot where it would deliver instant death, not even long enough to feel pain before falling into the cold sleep. His hand shook—could he do it?_

Gin shook his head; such a deed would be nothing to him now. He'd never allowed any sort of attachment to form. Even when he'd started relationships (he was a man afterall) he was certain that he could kill them if need came to it, without all the agony he'd gone through to get to the decision. A wry grin crossed his face as he thought of Sherry, the fugitive had been one of the people he'd spent 'time' with, and where had she ended up? The syndicate's most wanted list.

Fingers caressed the worn, blood spattered manuscript, eyes falling on the torn last page. Yes, that truly was his first and last moment of weakness.

A/N: I have no idea where this came from. A dream I think. It was interesting, and there is at least one more chapter after this, as a little wrap up. Anyway, when Kinko is talking about Gin and Kin, it's Silver and Gold. I believe Gin, in Japanese is silver so…yeah.

...This was written in one big lump this morning. I have no idea what inspired me to write this (cept the dream...maybe...) and I've NEVER written Gin before, so I have no idea how I did. Some feedback on that would be nice.

Little interesting thing on my version of Gin's past. I wonder, think he killed her? I tried to make it kind of vague. I might get the wrap up chapter done, might not, depends on how I feel. Reviews might help Maybe…


End file.
